I nodded. “I’d show you, but you probably don’t want to see it.” In fact, I was positive he wouldn’t want to see it. That was part of the reason why I hadn’t wanted to tell him where I was.
“Bianca?”
I eyed Zac and wished all of a sudden that he was wearing some sunglasses or something else that hid his features more than just hiding his hair. I turned my head at the same time that the hand Zac had on me jerked just a little and met Gunner’s eyes as he stood just off to the side. There was a frown on his face. “My friend is here now. I think he’ll stay with me so that you can go.”
I could feel Zac’s gaze on my face, hard and hot.
I turned to him. “You’ll stay with me, right?”
He tilted his head to the side. “All night if I need to, darlin’.”
I smiled at him before glancing back up at Gunner. “He’s staying,” I confirmed.
The frown on my boss’s face got a little deeper. “I told you I’d stay. I need to see about your bill.”
Zac squeezed my upper arm before he stood up. He turned that long body toward the last man I would have wanted him to interact with and said, “I’ve got her bill. You don’t need to worry about it.”
Was this the right time to tell him that I didn’t have insurance and wouldn’t mind milking Gunner for it?
“It’s my responsibility. I’m her boss.”
“I know who you are,” Zac said in a deceptively slow drawl that tickled at the base of my neck. I wished I could see his face, but he was turned away too much. What I could see was the way his shoulders went down and his chin tipped upward. “You’ve done enough, buddy. I’ve got it from here.”
“Bianca Brannen?”
I shot up to my feet and sent my boss a blank face. “Thank you for driving me, but I really will be all right.” I’d figure out the bill later.
Zac still wasn’t looking at me as he said in a low voice, “I’ve got her.”
Gunner glanced down at me, his harsh face emotionless. “Take three weeks off then, paid sick leave. Come back then.” After another glance at Zac, he turned and walked away.
“Bianca Brannen?” the nurse called out again, and that time, Zac lifted his hand in a wave at her.
I poked his side. “Want to wait out here?” I wondered if he knew that I remembered his not-a-phobia. I didn’t want to put him under pressure.
That gaze slid to me, and his nostrils flared. His Adam’s apple bobbed hard once before he surprised the shit out of me and shook his head. “I’ll come with you.”
He what?
I mean… “You can wait out here.”
His response was to brush the tip of his finger against the corner of my mouth.
And I responded to that by holding my breath.
He was touching my beauty mark.
“Are you sure?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed.
Right. “You can just… look at me the whole time if you want to come in. Not at the doctor or anything in the room,” I whispered the suggestion to him.
He was looking in the direction of my mouth when the corners of his went up and he ducked his chin in agreement.
He was being serious. He wanted to go in with me.
I couldn’t believe it. He had to love me. I knew it then.
But I didn’t say another word because I didn’t know what to say. Or think.
A tired-looking nurse started to say, “He needs—oh.” She blinked, and her eyes widened. “Oh. Umm, never mind. Follow me.”
Over my shoulder, I smiled at Zac, wincing only a little when I bumped my elbow by accident.
The nurse took my vitals, being really freaking polite the entire time as Zac stood by the chair I was sitting in, a hand on top of my head. I could feel him fingering my curls, tugging on one and then another. He could’ve put me to sleep if he would’ve done it any longer, and I stayed quiet, just enjoying his touch.
The second she walked out though, I turned to Zac, ready to distract him. “So, you ready for tomorrow?”
“Move your hands.”
I moved them to the side and watched as he turned and settled himself across my lap, not dropping all of his weight down on me, but most of it. I lowered my arms, thought about it for a moment, and set them around him, resting one hand on his thigh and holding my elbow with the other. “Look, you fit.”
His smile wasn’t totally bright, but it was mostly warm as he set his hands on top of my free one. “It’s been a long time since I sat on someone’s lap.”
“Lucky me.” His thighs were like a rock. “You’re lucky I don’t have boney legs; otherwise, it’d be pretty uncomfortable.”
He flexed the long muscles of his quadriceps as he set an arm around my shoulders. “You got a lot of experience sittin’ on people’s laps?” he asked quietly.
“Only some people’s.”
“Whose?”
I smiled at him, fucking around. “People’s,” I answered. “So, you ready for tomorrow?” So far, the White Oaks had played three games at home, and I’d gotten to go to all of them. Boogie had come down, and we’d enjoyed it. I’d even sucked it up when Lauren had tagged along one time and tried my best to be nice to her and ask questions about the wedding. They had decided to have a small one and weren’t having best men or bridesmaids or anything. Worked for me.
Zac was still frowning and looking like he really wanted to say something else that wasn’t football related, but he finally said, “Yeah. About as ready as I can be. You’re comin’, aren’t you?”
I pressed my cheek against his biceps and smiled up at him. “You rushed over here when you were probably in a meeting, and you’re sitting on my lap when we both know I’m probably going to need to get stitches. Yes, I’m coming, Snack Pack.” And then I remembered what happened with my channel and the ache in me grew fierce. “I need to tell you what happened earlier.”
His fingers skimmed the back of my hand lightly. “What happened?”
And it was right then that the doctor knocked and peeked her head inside the door.
An hour and five stitches later, Zac was heading out of the urgent care room by my side, holding a small paper bag with gauze that the doctor had shoved at me. By the lack of surprise on the doctor’s face when she’d walked in, either the nurse had already warned her who was inside the room or she had no idea who Zac was. She hadn’t batted an eyelash.
Especially not when she’d seen Zac sitting on me.
The doctor was really polite as she took a peek at my elbow and claimed I would need stitches just like I’d thought. And when Zac took a seat on a stool that the doctor slid over, he slipped his fingers through mine—looking sweaty and uncomfortable—especially as she injected me with some numbing stuff. He kept on holding it too as she stitched me up, whispering, a retelling of his last conversation with Paw-Paw as I’d squeezed the shit out of his hand, imagining that I felt that damn needle puncturing my skin, and instead forcing me to press my lips together to keep from laughing.
“How bad is it?” I had asked him while we’d waited to get discharged. He was staring intently on our hands, making it a point not to look elsewhere.